


Burning the Midnight Oil

by tromana



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five conversations Jane and Lisbon shared at midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning the Midnight Oil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaraBaker101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaraBaker101/gifts).



> Written for Lara Baker in the Paint It Red 2012 Great Stocking Exchange. Also for the September Monthly Challenge on the same site.

i.

"Jane," she muttered down the phone in a whispered breath. "Jane!"

"I'm here."

"I need you," she said promptly, cringing as she did so. "Now."

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Now's not the time for that."

"Lisbon, what's wrong?"

She pulled at the handcuffs holding her feet to the cast-iron bed. Thankfully, her hands had only been tied with rope and she'd been able to get free. Unfortunately, she had also been relinquished of her gun, Taser and anything else that could have been used as a weapon. She didn't even have her keys in her possession. Lisbon was grateful that her captors had forgotten to take away her cell phone, but that only made the situation marginally less bleak.

It depended purely on if Jane could get to her in time.

Lisbon didn't fancy her chances if he carried on with this small talk.

Quickly, she updated him on the situation. How she had been investigating the latest case alone when she had been taken off-guard by the suspect and some of his friends. Only now, Lisbon realized just how foolhardy she had been. In reality, she should have asked for backup, but she had never believed she would be in any danger. At least they had taken her to the family home, so she could give him an exact address. She asked if Cho was still about the office, but he wasn't. It was just Jane, on his own, with nobody there to help him along.

She never liked putting all of her faith in Jane, but it didn't look like she had much of a choice.

"I'll be there soon."

"Jane…"

"I can make it in fifteen minutes…"

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Promptly, she ended the call. The harsh light of her cell phone told her that it was two minutes past twelve. She stared at it until the light slowly but surely died away. Then, she closed her eyes tightly shut and offered a silent prayer of hope and forgiveness. There was nothing else left that she could do at this moment in time but wait, and hope, and pray. All the while, she listened out for footsteps, whether they be ones coming to end her life or otherwise, to save her by the very skin of her teeth.

When a tear leaked out of the corner of her left eye, she didn't bother to wipe it away.

ii.

It almost felt like a cliché.

Her getting hurt followed by his lonely vigil by her bedside while she tossed and turned and generally had a restless night's sleep. Usually, it was his fault, but she never called him up on it. Instead, Lisbon just took it gracefully and focused her attentions on simply getting better. It was only once she was fully recovered and getting better that she changed her demeanor. Then, she would be stricter with him at work until they rediscovered that easy balance they usually shared together.

The last time this had happened, she'd been kidnapped because she wanted to close a case before he caused any trouble. And he still blamed himself for the fact that he didn't get there prior to her captors hurting her. In reality, it was a miracle that she had gotten out of that one alive. Jane still thanked a god he didn't believe in for that. For a long while, she had been fine. If anything, he had been the one who had been the more accident prone out of the pair of them.

Until now.

Except, this hadn't been caused by either of them; it had just been a matter of coincidence and bad fortune.

Teresa Lisbon had contracted bacterial meningitis.

He had been the first one to notice there was something wrong. The aversion to light and sound, the nausea, the headache… Lisbon had cast it all aside as being 'just' a migraine. If it hadn't been for his insistence that she sought medical attention, then things could have spiraled out of control pretty damn fast. At least now, she was receiving the medical attention she desperately needed. As he twisted his wedding band around his finger impatiently, he recited that she was going to be fine.

She had to be.

Carefully, she turned over before blinking at the harsh, unnatural lighting. Even at midnight, the hospital staff didn't bother to turn it into something a little more natural. Jane smiled wryly at her and Lisbon merely grimaced in response. He couldn't blame her; he couldn't imagine the amount of pain she was in right now.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," she echoed. "You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"That's not an answer."

"No, it isn't," he agreed. "You want a drink?"

"Water would be good."

He nodded. He'd do anything for her, if only she asked.

iii.

She perched on the edge of her couch with her head held in the palm of her hands. Lisbon remained in that position, completely motionless. There was no impetus, no drive for her to do anything but sit in her empty house and wait until morning came. That didn't stop time from dragging though. And it most certainly didn't stop the images from flooding to the forefront of her mind.

Even now, after years of experience, the bad cases still hit her hard. They were the ones which made her doubt herself, and that lingered at the back of her mind. Usually, it gave her the desire to be the very best she could be; she hated the moments when crippling self-doubt threatened to destroy her. However, in the hours just after a disaster of a case, it always sent her into a virtually catatonic state. Or at least, it did once she managed to drag herself back home. Contrary to popular belief, she was fairly good at putting a brave face on while in public.

And this case had been particularly harrowing.

Lisbon loathed the cases where children had been killed and this one had involved three year old twin daughters.

The first had been their initial victim.

The second had been kidnapped, but had ultimately died due to a stray bullet when they'd attempted to rescue her.  _She_  had been responsible for that stray bullet.

Lisbon could have blamed it on her recent illness, she could have blamed it on the location, heck she could even have blamed it on Jane somehow. Ultimately, she just blamed it on herself and her lack of judgment. Part of her said she used to be better than this, and she would do anything to get back the skill she believed she had lost.

There was a knock at the door, but she ignored it. Without even looking at the clock, Lisbon already knew that it was late. Only when the knocking became more frantic and persistent did she haul herself to her feet.

"Jane? It's late," she said and she glanced at the clock. "Gone midnight. I'm tired…"

"Hello, Lisbon. Nice to see you."

"I'm tired; I want to go to bed."

"Really? I thought you were just blaming yourself for what happened?"

"So what if I was?"

Still, she stood aside and let him in. It was better than arguing on the doorstep anyway.

iv.

He was lying contentedly on his couch, with a small smile written across his features. Instead of staring vapidly up at Elvis, as he normally would have been at this time of night, he was making an effort to keep an eye on his watch. Currently, it said it was only twenty-three minutes past eleven at night. With a sigh, he sat up and ran a hand through his unruly blond curls. It was still far too early.

Eventually, Jane stood and made his way into the kitchenette to fix himself a cup of tea. He could practically hear Lisbon, hypocritically, muttering about caffeine intake at this time of night. However, what difference did it make to a chronic insomniac? He grinned as he dipped the Earl Grey teabag into his favorite blue teacup multiple times. Soon enough, it had stewed for long enough and he disposed of the teabag.

He took a detour on the way back to his couch. First, he stopped to stare at Lisbon's office. Then, he meandered his way through the bullpen, past the team's desks. His thoughts were elsewhere; back to ten years ago, when he had first joined the CBI. The time had flown by and so much had changed since then.

His motives for being there.

His reasons for staying.

How he felt about certain member of the unit.

Of course, he didn't breathe a word about these to the team. What they didn't know couldn't harm them. Besides, Red John was still out there. He still needed to be put him behind bars, and let him rot on Death Row. Letting Lisbon believe he was still out for revenge was safer for them both.

Suddenly, Jane's cell phone rang out. A text message read ' _happy ten years_ '. Then, it rang again, this time a call. He answered it and the response was an all-too-familiar maniacal laugh.

As soon as the call ended, Jane dialed Lisbon's number.

She sounded shattered when she answered.

"What is it?" she muttered. "You woke me up; it better be important."

"Did you know we have worked together for exactly ten years?"

"That all? I swear to God, Jane, if you don't have a better reason to be calling at this godforsaken hour, I'll come to the CBI headquarters and shove your phone where the sun-"

"Red John called me," he interrupted.

Her tone changed instantly. "I'll be right there."

v.

Her heels clicked against the wooden floorboards as she made her way across to Jane's couch.

It had been a court day, or to be precise, the inquiry into the death of Red John. Nothing wrong had been done during the closure of the case; Lisbon had made sure that everything had gone perfectly so that the conviction stuck. They just wanted to make sure that it really was him. The courts of Sacramento were still hurting from the fact they had already tried Jane for the murder of the wrong guy.

Jane opened one eye as she approached and Lisbon sighed. She'd hoped that she could make a quieter arrival, but the heels she had opted to wear – they were smarter for than her typical loafers – had made that virtually impossible. He grinned as he realized it was her approaching.

"You didn't come," she stated.

"I already have my answers; I don't need to hear people tearing them to shreds again."

He sat up and patted the right hand side of his couch, encouraging her to sit down. Lisbon didn't need to be asked twice. She promptly obeyed and kicked off her heels as she did so. Blisters had already formed and it reminded her why she didn't wear these shoes often.

"It's gone midnight," he added, when she didn't answer him back. "Why did you come back to work?"

"I forgot some case files I want to look over."

"Liar."

"Yeah, I wanted to see you."

Part of Lisbon could still scarcely believe that Jane had willingly handed Red John over to her, but the rest wasn't surprised at all. He'd stuck with her through thick and thin. When she was sick, he was the one to nurse her back to health. Whenever she got injured, he was the one giving her the literal and metaphorical band-aid. And whenever he screwed up, Jane had always found a way to make her forgive him.

He was the closest friend she had ever had.

More than that. There was something undeniably special about their relationship.

They had nearly tipped over the edge into something more on several occasions, but fear and Red John had always held them back.

Not anymore though.

"Jane… I want to know what you  _really_  think of me."

"Do I have to say it?" he asked and she smirked.

In the end, a kiss said all that he couldn't.


End file.
